


On the Seventh Night of Hannukah...

by BarefootGirl



Series: Eight Ficlets of Hannukah [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9128242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarefootGirl/pseuds/BarefootGirl
Summary: The seventh of 8 planned winter holiday ficlets.Sam and Cas, sitting in a tree.No, not likethat.  An actual tree.  Sam's a good brother.  Castiel's re-learning how to be one.





	

There were times Castiel thought that they could still hear what the Winchesters referred to as “angel radio,” the constant hum of their siblings, like the reassuring hum of a hive whose queen was well and healthy.  Whispers of it still slide through, ribbons of that hum, angels Castiel knew personally, some remnant of their contact lingering despite…

Despite all things.  Despite their actions, despite the harrowing of Heaven, despite the wall Heaven had erected, as though a wall could keep them safe.

Walls did not keep you safe.  Walls kept you alone.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Sam.”

“I thought I’d find you up here.”  He paused halfway up the ladder, waiting for an invitation.  Castiel appreciated it, waiting half a second before making the gesture that meant ‘come on up.’

They’d discovered the old hunting blind a few months before, when the ground was still bare.  Sam said he’d been running past it for months, without realizing it, and probably never would have found it at all if an old piece of tarp hadn’t rotted away and dropped on his head as he went past, one morning.  Dean had shown no interest, nor had Mary, but Castiel had found the structure fascinating.  It was built on a solid framework between three mature trees that had created a natural tripod, far enough apart that a deer - or a running human - could pass directly below without issue, and giving the hunter tucked within a clear view in three directions.

A series of sigils carved into the wood proved that the men of letters had been the ones to build it, and Castiel was pleased to see that none of the symbols had been used in actual hunting: whatever game they brought down, they did so with purely human skills.  
That had not kept them from adding to the sigils, refreshing the protections and correcting the one that was supposed to warm the wood above freezing; whoever had attempted that had been doomed to cold buttocks, if they hunted during winter, but now the shelter was nearly comfortable.

“This is an excellent place to think,” Castiel said, once Sam was settled, arms leaning against the rail,  his legs hanging over the edge of the perch.

“Yeah.”

Castiel waited.  If Sam had known they were there, and come out specifically, there was a reason.  Either he wanted to tell Castiel something, or he wanted to ask them something.  Either way, if it had been Dean, silence would work, or an insane comment to break his hesitation.  But Sam was difficult: some times he took to silence, while other times it was nearly impossible to stop him from speaking.

“Things’ll probably pick up in the New Year.  We’re thinking maybe…maybe we’ll keep close to home for a while, though.  No more month-long road trips.  Even Dean’s admitting we’re getting too old for that shit, and mom…  

“Mom was doing laundry this morning.”

A cardinal flicked its tail several branches above them, dislodging a faint shower of snow, and somewhere a squirrel chittered a warning at an intruder.

“She folded it.  And put it away.”

Ah.

“You think she will stay, this time.”

“It took _me_ three months before I actually put anything in drawers.  I know mom didn’t live out of motels the way we did, but.. I think it’s a good sign?”

Castiel sighed.  “Why do you all make this so difficult?  Simply ask her if she means to stay.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Cas.  Humans are complicated.  And that.. It gets even more complicated when you’re family.  Come on, you know _that_ by now.”

Sam’s sideways look was full of kenning, and Castiel felt a faint blush on their cheek.

“Your brother could make _carrots_ complicated.”

The bark of laughter startled the cardinal off his branch, and Castiel felt an answering smile curl their lips, pride in making a joke mixing with exasperation at the truth of it.

  
“You’re not exactly simplifying matters.  Can’t you two just…” Sam gestured with his hands, then let them drop, helplessly.  

“Ask him if he plans to accept the fact that he feels a physical attraction to me?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the most awkward thing you’ve ever said to him.  And trust me, sometimes, you have to back him into a corner.”  Sam paused to consider what he’d just said  “But if you do, um, any corner-backing physically, I mean, not metaphorically, give us warning so we can get out of the bunker for a few hours, okay?”

The buzz of Sam’s phone was likely a relief to both of them, saving Castiel from the need to respond to that.   Sam reached into his pocket to check the message,  stripping off gives to swipe at the screen.

“Mom says Dean’s calling us in for dinner.  And it’s lasagna - trust me, you don’t want to miss Dean’s lasagna.  Even if you can’t taste it properly, the smell is amazing.”

“He mentioned something about it earlier,” Castiel admitted, getting to his feet and gesturing for Sam to go first down the wooden ladder.  “If we are late he will be…”

“Impossible,” Sam said, starting down the ladder.  Then he stopped, and looked up at Castiel.  The tip of his nose was ruddy with the cold, his eyes bright with the look Castiel had learned to recognize as mischief.  “I’ll tell you what, Cas.  I’ll ask mom, straight out, if she’s planning to stay, if you ask Dean, straight out, if he’s over his gay panic yet.”

Castiel had the familiar sensation of having been coerced into something, even without agreeing.  It took them a moment to recognize the sensation as one last felt in the presence of  Gabriel - or at least, the version of Gabriel created by Metatron.  And before that… Balthazar.

It wasn’t a new thought, or a new hope, for that matter.  But the rightness of it still took Castiel by surprise.

“Cas?”

“I will not put your brother on the spot like that.  It would be unfair.” 

Sam’s expression shifted, a hint of guilt undercutting the mischief.“Yeah, okay.  You’re right.”  He shrugged, and started down the ladder.  “But think about it, okay?  I love you guys, but you’re making me nuts.”

Castiel followed Sam down the ladder, definitely not rolling their eyes.  Brothers, it seemed, were brothers no matter what the species.

**Author's Note:**

> Because holidays are about family. And trying to make each other happy.
> 
>  
> 
> Unbeta'd, because my usuals are (still) up in their eggnog and latkes.... Or, possibly, hung over from same.


End file.
